


Helion

by softstained



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Blood and Gore, Depression, Graphic Description, M/M, Pre-Apocalypse, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softstained/pseuds/softstained
Summary: In these invisible silhouettes carved by the absence of the sun, men grow hungry.





	Helion

DAY 121.

_The world is awash with the weight of darkness, blooming in the pit of insanity. In the humdrum, the universe has decided that it will come away, not in a bang. Instead, it falls apart, a shard by another…_

Radio static. In the background: the hum of the machines, whirring outside his windows.

Kyungsoo stirs. Outside, the birds are no longer chirping — or are they? He doesn’t recall their voices anymore, lost in the thoughts of how everything keeps breaking down for no reason. Today, it’s his heater. It’s cold, and even the layers of blankets cannot help tone down the weather. He groans, and the only telltale number of time ticks. In the clasp of the blackness, the LED glows blue. 08:17AM.

It’s a Monday.

He doesn’t keep track of the date anymore.

 

DAY 122.

( He doesn’t have to. )

Today, he wakes up to a memory. It fades along the seam of his consciousness, and all that he manages to gather are the flashes: umma’s smile, blistered hands, and scraped knees. Appa is a specter of undone thoughts, his presence a tooth that Kyungsoo will be buried without.

He finds a crook of his dreams colored with ghosts, something about the boyhood museum which portraits are mounted sideways, the walls splintering with gashes. He finds a picture of a boy of his age that he used to miss; everything about him seems to scratch Kyungsoo the wrong way. His sun-kissed skin, his tar-stained grins. Something about animals…

He feels sick.

 

DAY 124.

The news on television plays in the backdrop, painting the room with a soft light. He’s eating his last cup noodles, seated on the couch cross-legged. His mind wanders, destination unknown. He’s noticed this as of late, how his thoughts are unfocused, wayward.

In the background: “… the stars are no longer present at night. NASA is currently attempting to find the cause. …”

_How about a solid applause for another symptom?_

From this distance, Kyungsoo thinks that there are less cars passing by these days.

He fixed the heater. It’s still cold.

 

DAY 126.

And colder.

 

DAY 130.

And colder.

 

DAY 134.

There’s nothing wrong with the heater. Maybe this is it: the electricity cannot keep what little cocoon that he has warm anymore.

The afternoon offers none of the solar energy, and it renders him restless. It feels like seasonal depression granted immortality. It clings to his neurons, his sinews. Lethargy is a norm. He stays in his bed past the day, trying to fall asleep to no avail — trying to will away the creeping ennui.

He tosses and turns in his bed, before drawing the window blind up, exposing the world outside. The skies are cloudless, its horizon tainted with what little warmth that humanity can gather. From here, a solid flicker from the lamppost closest to his apartment. Even the remnants of the sunlight refuse to kiss Seoul goodbye.

Doesn’t exactly remember how it happened. Doesn’t exactly want to.

Not today.

 

DAY 146.

The news start with an announcement of job openings today, direly seeking employees to work outdoor, in the freezing temperature. The Celsius has dropped to a winter standard, possibilities of minuses growing imminent.

He’s half-tempted by the search, but knows that money means naught in the world where the currency has changed.

Puts on more layers, and exits the establishment with his figure bundled up. Somehow, being outside carves a tint of relief. It’s probably the sense of freedom from claustrophobia.

He’s never the outdoor kind, always introverted by nature. Used to love wandering at nights, relishing in the quiet of the emptied streets. If he tries hard enough, he can perhaps pretend that it’s only a winter night, so late that half of the city is wrought in slumber.

The soft ding of the door opening in the convenience store jolts him awake from his thoughts. They have been loitering to the unwanted crannies again, leaving dust from the past everywhere. The man behind the cashier gives him a look before returning to his cellphone, seemingly unabashed.

After over a hundred day, the stores began to stock up on basic necessities.

He despises the implications, thinking that the world shouldn’t have ended this way. His life shouldn’t have ended this way. Walking past the energy drinks aisle, he’s reminded of his years spent laboring day and night on his thesis. Now, it’s gone to waste. Proficiencies lack demands.

_At least this store has the decency to keep the mood up._

The song on the stereo is quiet, but audible. It’s upbeat, reminding him that it’s summer. He thinks again as he dumps more cups of noodles into his basket.

 

DAY 149.

He’s yanked away from sleep to the harsh reality that the dusk in his dreams is a fabricated thought, manufactured by his weary subconscious. The fracture between the truths and lies blooms wider, and he starts recalling how the genesis that lathered the world anew commenced.

The days grew shorter, and the nights longer.

It took a while before everyone realized that the sun was on the verge of demise. The depth of darkness stretched by centimeters each day, and countries began to launch more satellites as the ones already aired malfunctioned. They were unfitting for the current weather, sending off bad signals… something, something. Kyungsoo stopped paying attention when the news was littered with the future of earth, thinking that it was another gimmick that would soon pass.

He had never really heeded the warnings.

Global warming was simply another issue that a business student like him shouldn’t fuss over — not like he could do anything about it. It eventually died down, the issue, replaced by speculations that drove scientists mad.

The sun sighed, going dimmer and dimmer with each passing week.

Any week could be its last, until it was.

 

DAY 152.

Updates from all across the globe have reached a consensus that the world is becoming less and less habitable day by day, and modern cities have been digging their way into the underground for months. Seoul’s hive is built under the crux of Gangnam, saving those with the wealth to afford the accommodations.

Kyungsoo snorts at the news.

Maybe as a business person, he wasn’t too savvy after all.

He vaguely recalls how months ago people queued for the jobs to build the hive, and his skepticism now has dealt him a good number.

_Oh well, sing another elegy tonight — sweetly, gently…_

 

DAY 166.

Against the steam of the brewing coffee in the percolator, his thoughts are punctuated by semi-colons. They drone on and on without full stops, relating one event to another, relating one misfortune to the rest.

And he remembers the boy next door from the volume of his lips, from the wicked of his tongue.

A break from this monotony, it splinters the corners of his lips into a smile. It feels stiff, suffering from weeks of stagnancy. He doesn’t even remember the finer details of the boy’s face. To Kyungsoo, the boy is just that. A boy. And as he grew older, he understood better.

Perhaps, in times like this, when sanity is a mere shatter away, he keeps himself asleep at nights by knowing that there was someone out there, committing every worse crime than what he could’ve thought about.

 

DAY 167.

He wasn’t listening when the news was broadcasted along the seam of the morning. Through the radio, the television. A bleep in the inertia, like a jolt of life after a recharge.

After the captivity of worsening, withering hopes that proffered little to none, it feels almost redundant to listen to these scientific jargons about mushrooms, about corals. Some specimens that glow in the depth of the darkness, in forests, in seas. Kyungsoo has never been the fastest with scientific means, his brain tinkering the information a second too late. But this, he only catches the gist of it.

It’s more than enough.

Science has always promised too many things and proved too few things.

Today isn’t the day.

 

DAY 168.

They managed to capture the lifeline of natural lights, mimicking its sensory elements to create a semblance of artificial lights. No, wait. Natural — that’s the word. Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows as he focuses on what the man is saying, which is proven difficult with the euphoric cheers that rumble around him. The group of scientists have succeeded in propagating the source of the lights.

Most of these scientists have been dispatched back into their home countries to continue the experimentations at their respective home bases.

One of them placed the research into a dome located in Busan.

 

DAY 170.

Kyungsoo’s memory of Busan is blurry at best, rimmed with a lot of rust.

Appa used to live there, missing bits and pieces reunite in the nook of Kyungsoo’s head. It’s at the farthest spot from the forefront, bare-teethed reminiscences biting the insides of his organs. Is that a thud, or an ache?

He cannot differentiate between the two. Not when umma was pushed to the sidewalk, her knees bleeding from the friction. From then onwards, appa became a syllabus of void that was never missed.

 

DAY 173.

When the entire world started collapsing, the system could only stand for so long.

The government is no longer providing support for the poor, stating that the jobs were everything that they could offer while they lasted. The castes have been established, with the entities from the government crumbling in their own selfishness, sleeping in the safety of the hives from the money they wrangled from the interstices of their people’s fingers.

Of course, everything was polished to perfection for these greed-gilded men.

And Kyungsoo remains in the safety of his own studio apartment. In this three by four bedroom, watching the stark ceiling as though it could slow the countdown to apocalypse.

 

DAY 174.

Sometimes, he’s angry, filled to the brim with a sense of injustice.

The universe should have ended in a blink of an eye, shutting down entirely within a definite second. This slow death is agonizing, and he can only lie there in his bed, knowing his days are numbered without being able to do anything about it. It tastes like being placed in a coma while watching as the pieces of his life rot.

 

DAY 175.

They said that there would be space for everyone in this Eden.

 

DAY 176.

He wakes up to the rupture of silence. His neighbors are packing their belongings up, heading to Busan. There will be a new sun, a new orbit.

An entirely new life built inside a flask filled with scientific phenomena.

Their shouts and steps sear the previously grim atmosphere, and he wants nothing to do with it.

He just wants to live his last days in peace.

 

DAY 177.

Until that face flares into his sight, burning the back of his retina.

His morning was everything about creased bed linens, and he stayed in the confines of his blankets with the inklings of sleep remaining. It was a normal day, hovering between the morning and afternoon, making no difference for everything was still under the glow of the jaundice lights of his lamps. Still synthetic, parasitic. Depression another name for normalcy, it was only a matter of time before he was killed, either by the universe or his own hands.

Deprivation of natural lights and exposures to society rendered him low, but when the television was on, something else sprouted.

A feeling: long-lost arts in a world where survival is a moot point.

Ire. It’s odd, Kyungsoo isn’t used to dwelling in negativity derived from others; naturally an unperturbed pessimist, he’s more critical towards himself than the rest of the world — but this. This is different.

That face emphasizes that sliver of forgotten memories, buried deep along with the childhood trauma. It feels like digging his backyard for decaying bones, rummaging the soil for corpses that should’ve been left alone.

 

DAY 178.

His bags are packed. Just a duffel that contains his clothes, necessities. The basics are covered, enough to reach Busan within a few days.

He’s about to drink his last coffee, bidding his apartment goodbye when he realizes the aftermath of last night’s insomnia. Red crescents that form in his palms, hours spent sitting on ankle-deep ocean in his bathtub. Feeling like his skin was foreign, his wrath setting him alight. He left scratch marks around his torso as well, trying to turn his skin inside out, so that the blood would spill, so that the dirt would purge.

He’s a byproduct of a tale scribbled by an act of neglect.

( And madness is hereditary. )

He figured that he had nothing else to lose.

 

DAY 178.

Public transports are long-abandoned, leaving him to walk towards the station where the only train to Busan will depart in a day.

In the cold, his feet are numb. He stops to take a breath, leaning against a building. Heaves a sigh. Even within his layered gloves, his fingers are still trembling. Checks his phone for the latest updates, but the reception doesn’t work as well anymore. Retrieves the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and he’s about to light it when someone approaches.

From the corner of his eyes, he doesn’t recognize them.

He looks up, storing his cigarette back. Nowadays, it’s become an expensive commodity — men yearn for warmth, after all. And for some reason, his gut feelings leave discomfort in him. There’s something about this person that strikes him the wrong way.

_Something…_

Kyungsoo readies himself for a fight or flight situation.

 

DAY 178.

He remembers the stranger’s smirk from a day when undulating summer waves weren’t a dream.

Even from the distant corners of his memories, the boy still looks the same — sharp features with jagged edges, perforating each portrait with teeth marks. And here he is, standing with even more serrated incisors, cutting Kyungsoo off his thoughts permanently.

“You haven’t changed,” the boy speaks, amusement dancing in his tone, mimicking the mirth in his eyes. “Do you remember me?”

Kyungsoo looks at him as the sense of nauseating déjà vu seeps in.

“Even your unnerving gaze hasn’t changed,” he resumes after a pause, seemingly taking the circumstance that Kyungsoo is in. “I take it that you don’t.”

_He gutted the cat…_

“I’m Jongin. Kim Jongin.”

 

DAY 178.

Kyungsoo lets out a puff of smoke as he watches the ember burning at the tip of Jongin’s cigarette. They’re sitting on the sidewalk, side by side with a considerable gap wedged in-between. Kyungsoo is wary.

The boy whose eyes used to crinkle in a wicked laugh has found him again.

And in the span of the moment, he wants to trust his instincts: to run, run, run, and never look back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, something anchors him to this spot, seated right to the boy once again. A reminiscence over the summers spent over popsicles in their mouths, the undersides of Jongin’s nails still crusted with rotten red.

It sends him shudders down his spine, and when Jongin smiles his way upon knowing he’s being watched, it sends him another bout.

“So, where are you headed in this cold, blistery day?” he inquires, and for a second, Kyungsoo simply stares at him. There’s something about Jongin’s speech.

“Nowhere,” Kyungsoo’s reply is colorless, almost defensive.

A chuckle. “The world’s ending,” he speaks in that lilted manner. “You want to die here, or die trying?”

“Trying?”

“To reach the dome. I heard it was going to be a massacre right there.”

 

DAY 178.

The smokes end in ashes, and Kyungsoo reminds himself that he used to think the world would be ending in flumes.

Before its eventual death, the sun shone the brightest.

He thought they would disintegrate, falling into blackened dust. But instead, they will shiver and die, one by one.

Except he doesn’t.

Jongin is right — he is going to die trying.

 

DAY 178.

They don’t talk, but they seem to have reached a tacit agreement on understandings. They are going for the dome, and while Kyungsoo is still wondering why Jongin would take Kyungsoo with him, he doesn’t protest. Worst case scenario, he’s probably murdered midway, becoming a body dumped in the ditch.

At least that means he dies trying.

To be really honest, he has no clue as to how to reach the dome, and Jongin seems so certain about his steps. Kyungsoo chooses to follow.

They’re going the opposite way from the station.

He holds his tongue, not wanting to break the numbed silence plastered all over the space between them. Jongin leads, his steps leisure. There’s still something about him that makes Kyungsoo want to just… run away from him, despite his charming nature. There’s still something… predatory about Jongin in ways that Kyungsoo doesn’t understand.

Still, one more step. Two, three.

And they eventually arrive at what seems to be the destination. A deserted parking lot, with the cars seemingly as dead as the rest of the city. It feels haunted, like entering a cathedral of tombstones.

Jongin heads towards a car in the corner — a Hyundai.

At this rate, Kyungsoo doubts that there’s still any gasoline left. It’s been weeks. Resources are exhausted, transportations becoming a concept forgotten.

Except this one, the tank is still at half. Kyungsoo stares at it as he sits at the passenger seat.

“Saved it for an important time like this — sorry about the dust, by the way.” An off-handed comment, but Kyungsoo knows that he wasn’t exactly surreptitious with his stare.

When the car rumbles to life, Kyungsoo fixates his gaze ahead, out of the parking lot, onto the street.

He doesn’t really know the way to Busan, but he’s certain that they’re not going for the station either.

 

DAY 178.

It’s almost evening, according to the clock’s display. The LED is a tad brighter than that of Kyungsoo’s own at the home that he’s left behind, but it’s still a calming reassurance, for some reason.

06:07PM.

Jongin is still driving. It’s been about two hours, but he remains calm, making occasional comments about their childhood: prairie talks, summer chats. Their mothers used to know each other, he believes — although even his mother’s face is a blur in Kyungsoo’s memory, let alone Jongin’s. He doesn’t speak a lot in return, letting Jongin lead the conversations. Eventually, they seem to go nowhere, dropped. Kyungsoo let many of them slide into the rim of quiet.

“Thinking about it, we didn’t say goodbye, did we?” Another question, rhetorical. It shattered a moment of silence that lasted for about half an hour, in the mere company of car engines’ hum. Kyungsoo was busy paying attention to the condensation on the windows. Even the heater in the car cannot help with the cold.

Kyungsoo nods, and before he could open his mouth for an answer that he did not even think about, the car is slowly coming to a stop.

In the depth of the dimly-lit silhouettes of the surrounding buildings, someone approaches. Jongin watches the stranger as well as he moves towards their car, a tall figure with gangly limbs. A knock on Jongin’s side of the window later, Kyungsoo is faced with the stranger’s face upon having the window rolled down. Kyungsoo studies the stranger, almost furrowing his eyebrows. A pair of large ears with a face-splitting grin; this stranger seems to happy in comparison to this backdrop.

“Hey, got a space for someone else? You’re heading to the dome, right?”

This time, Jongin sounds hesitant, and Kyungsoo cannot see it but he’s fairly certain that his countenance would mirror that of his tone. “Mm— Yes, but—“

Jongin pauses, and turns his head to Kyungsoo with a wicked smirk on his face. And then, he turns back to the stranger.

“But?” The stranger seems eager — and cold, shivering.

“My husband and I—“

“Please. I can be of use! I bring a lot of food, and I know the way to the dome!”

From here, Kyungsoo cannot really peruse Jongin’s expression, but he has an odd guess that it would’ve been something of uncertainty. There’s something at the tip of his tongue to name someone like this, but heck, Kyungsoo is never really good with jargons.

Jongin shrugs eventually, and gestures for the stranger to come in.

 

DAY 178.

“So, husbands, eh?” the stranger starts once the car resumes the trip. Shedding himself off the layers, he grins again. “How long have you been married? I’m Chanyeol, by the way.”

“Chanyeol,” Jongin repeats. “I’m Jongin. This is my husband, Kyungsoo. We’ve been married for… how long again is it, hyung?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t really know how to react, choosing to go along with the scheme, whatever it is. He chuckles, almost nervously. “Almost three years,” he says, trying to do it with conviction but he seems to lack it.

Jongin, too, chuckles. A hand leaves the steering wheel to take Kyungsoo’s in his. “He’s still nervous whenever we talk about our marriage. But see, hyung? People are supportive.”

A laugh from Chanyeol, which fills the emptiness in the car. After all, maybe taking this stranger isn’t a bad idea.

“You guys are lucky, facing this peril together,” Chanyeol muses. “I lost everyone I loved. But, ah, well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk!”

“Where did they go?” Kyungsoo asks out of shallow curiosity.

There is no answer, and when Kyungsoo looks at Chanyeol, he just offers Kyungsoo a bitter smile.

Jongin fills in the static by turning on the radio, and while it doesn’t connect to the usual station, it at least grips on a channel good enough for them to listen to the conditions on the station. It’s crowded, people jostling each other — stepping on each other — and there are some casualties. But what are casualties these days, when you can die on your doorstep from the weather alone?

 

DAY 178.

The trip to Busan shouldn’t have taken more than three hours, give or take, but the route has changed a lot after the bullet train system was implemented two decades ago. Now, Kyungsoo begins to resent it, and to resent the fact that he should’ve just gone to the station, trying his luck there.

9:29PM. Jongin drives the car to a petrol station, where Kyungsoo’s sure that there’s no gas left. Shortly after every business started closing except the occasional convenience stores that stocked upon the last of canned food, there were raids everywhere, including the gas stations. Used the resources all up, exploiting them to the last drop to escape — although back then, there was no actual exit. No source of light, no source of hopes. Today, there is.

Chanyeol is asleep until the car comes to a stop. There’s a small store located not far from it, and Jongin walks there after killing the car engine, taking the key. They leave Chanyeol behind, but Jongin takes Kyungsoo’s hand while they’re walking.

“Eyes everywhere,” Jongin simply says, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Kyungsoo looks at him, but doesn’t say anything yet, just tightening his grip in Jongin’s hand.

They’re drawing close to the store when Kyungsoo decides to ask, knowing that his silence cannot guarantee an eventual explanation from Jongin. “What’s your plan?”

Jongin stops their steps, and moves his hands towards Kyungsoo’s face, cupping his cheeks. “To get everyone’s sympathy,” he speaks, voice low. “That way, we’re inseparable. People are most likely to pity us if we’re coming in a batch, you see — but we cannot pretend like we were father and son, unfortunately.”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “Since when did you get that kind of theories? It’s not like—“a sigh. “Why would you want to help me get to the dome anyway? With your resources, you could’ve saved yourself.”

“Oh,” Jongin chuckles softly. “Don’t act like I don’t know your motives.”

“What motives?” A skip of heartbeat — how could an almost stranger know?

“Your father,” he shrugs, putting his hands down to take Kyungsoo’s in his. “Been watching over you for quite a while.”

“You’re insane,” Kyungsoo tells him outright. “How long have you been stalking me?”

“Not long. I came back from London around weeks before the sun died. It’s only been a while. It was only natural to find the boy from my childhood, no? Especially when you showed up on my stepfather’s doorstep waiting to get an interview.”

There’s no word to convey his feelings as he tries to digest it, looking at Jongin in disbelief.

“Don’t look too surprised,” Jongin laughs. “I’ve always liked you as a kid. You’re different.”

“Diff—“

“Hey, you guys,” Chanyeol’s voice breaks in. “Don’t you want to continue your romance inside? It’s cold.”

Jongin replies with an almost sinister chuckle, nodding. “Let’s move inside, hyung. You’re trembling.”

 

DAY 179.

They slept in the car, heater on. The tank is a quarter away from empty. Busan is, according to Chanyeol, two hours away, judging from the route.

Kyungsoo stirs from his sleep from the sound of the bullet train passing by on the trail above where their car was parked, and realized that Jongin, too, has been awake. He smiles at Kyungsoo in a manner Kyungsoo cannot decipher, and slowly leans towards him, causing Kyungsoo to grimace a bit. The aura of danger still lingers around Jongin, but he thinks he can get used to this, whatever Jongin’s reasons are.

Jongin presses a kiss on his temple, and Kyungsoo sends him a questioning look. There’s no answer, however, just a quiet chuckle that easily gets drowned under Chanyeol’s snoring. It’s perhaps mischief, hanging onto Jongin’s expression like a ghost of their past.

He doesn’t think this game is only for Jongin to play.

And so, he pushes Jongin by the shoulders, pressing him against the window as he leans towards him for an open-mouthed kiss, their breath mingling in the proximity. It carves a sense of triumph in him, how Jongin gasps against his kiss in surprise. He almost smirks at that, knowing that he, too, is a part of this game.

Maybe this isn’t a bad plan, after all.

He can sense Chanyeol waking up, but pretends to be asleep still at the display of affection. Jongin tastes like tobacco and ashes, mixed with residue of mint. And when Jongin reciprocates the kiss, he feels a slight jolt, reminding himself of how hungry he’s been of human touch.

Deprivation does funny things to humans, he’s learned.

 

DAY 179.

The concept of time is almost lost with the constant darkness, and it’s 3:48AM when Kyungsoo decides that he should be driving, letting Jongin rest. Jongin’s sleeping face is peaceful, almost too innocent for a man who seems to enjoy feeding on others.

Chanyeol sings along a slow song that used to be popular in the 21st century, and Kyungsoo is reminded of the years when surviving through money existed. It feels so far away now, like a legend. Remnants of its presence taste like disintegration against his mind, thoughts scattered.

For the first time ever, he’s almost delighted that his mother didn’t live long enough to watch the world crumble around her.

 

DAY 179.

4:49AM is when they arrive at a gate, and from here, he can see the dome looming in the horizon, rising above it in all its glory. Its light bleeds into the weight of the darkness in the background, and he swallows.

The station that stops at Busan is nearby, and the rest have been closed over the fact that not everyone can get into the dome. Their gates have been multiplied in such a short time; and to believe that the government had not prepared to isolate those who could survive would be a hard task at hand.

Even the government no longer fights for the people. Resources are depleted, after all, and the only ones who can survive will do anything to ensure their own survivals.

This is the first gate to the dome, and Jongin is awake, bleary. He smiles at Kyungsoo, knowing Chanyeol is watching. “We’re here,” he expresses in faux relief, rubbing Kyungsoo on the shoulder. Kyungsoo feels odd at the touch, yet he doesn’t flinch — not from the plan, no, but the kiss perhaps has inflicted something akin to familiarity in them.

It hasn’t rained for a while as there’s no sun to absorb the water into the clouds, but for some reason, as they draw closer the sound of soft rains seem to grow louder. It’s as if the dome is bringing an entirely new life into its surrounding.

A knock on the window after the officials approached them. Kyungsoo rolls the window down in anticipation, with his heart pounding.

“No car’s allowed past this point,” the security informs after he inspects the passengers of the car.

Kyungsoo almost frowns, although he reigns himself in. Looks at Jongin for confirmation — and Jongin nods. The tank is almost empty anyway.

 

DAY 179.

Past the first gate, they walk together, Chanyeol behind them. The dome might seem close prior, but now that they’re walking, Kyungsoo knows it’s going to take a while. Even the last station stands far from them: a building at the end of the collapsing city. The sun’s death has left nothing of the city but rubbles of what once was alive. Everything between the gates is a ghost town.

They’re given the direction to the station, which at this point means naught. It’s difficult navigating through deserted roads, but Jongin doesn’t seem to worry much.

Chanyeol, on the other hand, seems scared.

“Are you all right?” Kyungsoo asks after the first gate disappears behind the outlines of the establishments.

Chanyeol gives him a worrisome smile, before nodding. “I’m… scared of ghosts,” he frantically answers, although Kyungsoo knows that it’s not the truth at all.

“It’s probably better for you to be scared of us,” Jongin interjects suddenly, his tone playful but there’s a flash of serrated edges in it. Kyungsoo stiffens slightly.

First response from Chanyeol is widened eyes, and he pulls something out of his pocket. A knife, and he flicks it open as he walks backward. “Don’t — Don’t touch me!”

Kyungsoo mutters a curse when he sees the knife, feeling defenseless out of a sudden. He’s not completely new to self-defense, but he’s never practiced it in a real life situation. Not like this, definitely.

Jongin grins maniacally, letting Kyungsoo’s hand go. “It’s very… cute of you,” he says as he steps forward, closing the gap between them — Chanyeol evens it out by stepping back farther. “Your plan was actually to kill us in our sleep.”

Chanyeol is trembling in the face of Jongin’s blatant bravery. ( Or is it, bravery? )

“You know there’s a limited spot into the dome,” Jongin continues, and Kyungsoo is frozen in his place. “You just didn’t kill us since you still have… hm, what do we call it? Ah, yeah, conscience. That’s… cute.”

 

DAY 179.

Kyungsoo doesn’t exactly recall how it happened — how Jongin managed to wrangle Chanyeol’s knife out of the owner’s hand, leaving Chanyeol scampering away for his life. But Jongin is faster, and in a few strides he closes the gap between them. Kyungsoo only stares when Jongin wraps his elbow around Chanyeol’s neck, and with ease, plants the knife into Chanyeol’s flesh.

It’s only after Chanyeol’s body goes limp from the short struggle that it had that Kyungsoo realizes what Jongin has done. He stutters when he is yanked out of his daze. “You — You killed him,” the statement feels cold against the tip of his tongue.

Jongin turns his head around, and folds the knife calmly. He seems unperturbed by the blood splattered slightly on his face. “Oh, come on now,” he rolls his eyes petulantly. “It was a kill or be killed situation.”

Jongin is right, but just how leisurely he handles this carves an extreme fear in Kyungsoo. He wants to run, but it feels like his feet are anchored to the ground.

“He knew it since the beginning,” Jongin hums. “Whoever he was, he had access to the inside information. But hey, not like I couldn’t read it off him.”

Kyungsoo’s mouth is agape for a moment. When he speaks again, fright coloring his voice clearly. “Are you — Are you going to kill me too?”

At that, Jongin laughs. “If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done it weeks ago. You’re not that hard to kill.”

“So… why? What do you want from me?”

There’s no answer, only that wicked smirk, and Kyungsoo finds the courage to finally pivot on his heel and run.

 

DAY 179.

He’s run so far that he’s lost his way. He knows for sure that the last station is no longer within his reach.

He’s run so far, and knows for certain that for some reason Jongin has followed him. He can sense it, but he doesn’t know if it’s real or just a part of his paranoia. Jongin is not there when he looks back, but for some reason, he can hear footsteps. Perhaps it’s just an echo of his own footfalls, but he cannot truly think anymore.

 

DAY 179.

When he wakes up from the fitful of fatigued sleep, Jongin is already there, cleaned up from the blood stains. Kyungsoo is lying on the concrete, his head propped by his own backpack. Jongin greets him with a smile.

“Morning, sunshine.”

It reminds Kyungsoo of that one sunny day, when he was lying under a tree, enjoying its shade. It reminds Kyungsoo of the buried memories, when Jongin told him that nearby that tree, Jongin had buried the neighbor’s dog.

He doesn’t think that outrunning Jongin is possible at this point. A groan, he hoists himself into a sitting position, lured by the faint scent of food that Jongin is consuming. Jongin hands him a boxed tea and a pack of beef strips. “Fresh from that guy’s bag. He got a lot of food indeed,” he continues, and Kyungsoo glares at him but accepts them.

For a moment, the silence drowns, except for the static coming from the entire place — the rain sound comes close into uniformity, creating a blur of white noises. Kyungsoo swallows, feeling the remainder of sleep in his mouth. He washes it off with the tea.

“You’ve always been this way,” Kyungsoo finally concludes.

Jongin raises his eyebrows in a tacit request for an explanation.

“You used to kill animals.” Rips the packaging. He doesn’t really know what he’s trying to accomplish by making all this assumption — although it’s backed up by the vague memories.

“Yeah. So?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Are humans all the same for you? Had you ever killed before?”

There’s a genuine smile pulling the corners of Jongin’s lips. “You’ve never paid this much attention to me before.” A pause. “And I’ve always paid you all the attention. But to answer your question, no. I like you — you’re different. You’re an exception.”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. He doesn’t know what he expected as an answer, but this was certainly not it.

“Besides, what’s the fun in trying to survive alone?”

“So, that’s it? I’m just a temporary company that you will dispose as soon as you have the chance to get in?” Kyungsoo squints, trying to read Jongin, but it’s in vain.

“You’re dense,” he snickers. “I said it — I like you. I don’t kill people I like.”

 

DAY 179.

He can only tell that the night has come when it grows colder — as if it was possible. It might be just his feeling, but when they stop their trip to rest after what feels like hours, he finds himself shivering more. Perhaps it’s the lethargy, but when Jongin starts kissing him, he doesn’t really pull back.

And it’s warm; they’re inside this abandoned apartment building, in the only bedroom available. In the depth of the darkness, he can only feel Jongin’s hands, cupping his cheek and wandering across his covered chest. The movements are almost desperate, and Kyungsoo finds himself leaning against Jongin further, his own aggression taking over the kiss.

His tongue sneaks into Jongin’s mouth, scavenging the history shared between them, and in there, the reminder that Jongin pressed a kiss against his lips before, when he was thirteen. But this time, the despair in Jongin’s gestures is almost too obvious, and for the first time since their reunion, Kyungsoo would like to believe that Jongin is genuine, in spite of what’s happened.

When his own instincts guide him to reciprocate the affection, he’s no longer surprised. He pushes Jongin gently against the mattress, and in the faint silhouettes, he notices how beautiful Jongin has grown. 

Jongin allows him to undo the pants, slowly, awaiting permission. There’s no resistance, so Kyungsoo continues with the pace, pulling Jongin’s jeans down. He bends down to press kisses down the seams of Jongin’s inner thighs, before coating his own fingers with saliva. He prods Jongin’s entrance with a finger, and again, waits for the consent.

There’s a soft chuckle coming from Jongin. “Go ahead.”

 

DAY 180.

He wakes up with Jongin still sleeping peacefully on his chest. He’s still cradling Jongin’s head, pressing Jongin close against his own body for warmth despite the layers of blankets. They’re still naked, flush from the residue of their libido — it might have been a nap, or if it was a sleep, it was a good rest regardless. It felt short, but he doesn’t really complain — not after the restlessness which had been smothering his slumber almost everyday.

He doesn’t really recall what happened prior, but as his mind starts leaving the state of sleep, he is reminded of how gentle he was with Jongin, and how affectionate they were to each other. He’d never been this intimate with anyone before.

Or had he?

 

DAY 180.

Jongin was up before he does, and he only stirs from his dreamless sleep when there are kisses peppered across his face. Kyungsoo blinks, slightly surprised by the gesture before it dawns on him that he’s no longer alone in his own apartment.

“Morning, sunshine,” Jongin softly says, and even in the dark, Kyungsoo can tell that Jongin looks complacent.

“Mm, morning,” he replies, coming off as more tentative than he intended. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know — I don’t have any watch on me.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, and sighs as he pulls himself up to sit. It’s cold, and their clothes are scattered on the floor. He doesn’t feel like picking them up, but knows that spending more time on this would be counterproductive. He wills himself against the cold, getting out of the bed to pick his clothes up — or maybe, some of them are Jongin’s. He doesn’t care, putting them on.

Jongin follows without saying anything, but there’s irrevocable mirth dancing across his expression, according to Kyungsoo’s adjusted sight.

“What?” Kyungsoo asks, this time slightly snarky.

“You weren’t as bad in bed as I’d thought you would’ve been,” he replies as he picks up their bags from the floor, tossing Kyungsoo’s towards the owner.

Kyungsoo catches his backpack, glaring at Jongin upon digesting what the compliment means.

He lets Jongin take his hand as they walk out of the apartment, however.

 

DAY 180.

There are too many things that Kyungsoo learned to forget. And with Jongin’s hand in his, he learns to remember, one by one:

i. Umma used to be the ichors that ran in Kyungsoo’s veins — both vital and lethal. She was the cinnamon scent in early summer mornings, the baby’s breath in his little daydreams of prairies. He used to love her in ways that she would knit a story for him before bedtime, carving memories beside his bed in the absence of a father. She used to be the truths for him, until she, too, started lying behind her gritted teeth and fake smiles.

ii. And they left Busan after that night, the scrapes on Umma’s knees drying but he knew that the wounds in her heart never did. That was when he met a neighbor of his, living in that small apartment where sounds passed through the walls with ease. Umma found a company, and so did he. The mother and son, the first family friend. He saw Jongin in ways that others didn’t — the kids in the playground always seemed to deviate away from Jongin, seemingly scared. But Kyungsoo found a good friend in Jongin, spending hours and hours dwelling in silence as they drew and played.

iii. He recalls how Jongin always had a penchant for eerie things: he drew the depth of darkness normally unreachable by kids, leaving Kyungsoo perplexed. But he was quick to forget something that he did not comprehend. He recalls how they were eight and nine when Jongin set fire on a hive, burning the entire colony of the bugs. Kyungsoo recalls how he was just watching as Jongin did it. Now, he’s wondering — was Jongin the only one with the violent streaks, when he just stood there watching?

iv. They spent years together as neighbors, and Kyungsoo watched as Jongin was taken away by a man who fell in love with Jongin’s mother. An affluent stepfather, Jongin was blessed, to say the least. The day before he left for London, Jongin met him under the tree where they first spent their time together as kids, and confessed how much he’d always liked Kyungsoo. Flustered, Kyungsoo did not remember saying anything, and shortly after was the soft kiss pressed against the plush of his chapped lips. In this moment, it felt like everything went by quickly.

v. It was probably the hurt over his own quiet that led Kyungsoo to the walk of forgetting.

 

DAY 180.

The last station is finally in sight after they walked for approximately three hours, and upon drawing closer, Jongin pulls Kyungsoo towards the side instead of the entrance. Kyungsoo follows, not quite understanding Jongin’s plan yet understanding Jongin’s nature enough to comply.

It’s a little too quiet for a last stop to be. Kyungsoo wonders if it means that everyone’s been transported to the dome, and that they’re late. Upon inspection through the window, though, it’s doesn’t seem like the case — there are no empty trains, just empty railways. It seems that nobody has arrived yet, and upon seeing that, Jongin tilts his head.

“They’re supposed to be bullet trains,” Jongin muses. “And it’s been like, what, two days? If everyone’s been transported here, what’s the point of having the trains back? That’d be a waste of electricity… that we cannot really afford right now.”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo agrees, and notices the presence of the guards inside the station. “We’re probably supposed to head straight to the gate.”

Jongin squints, and shakes his head. “Wait here.”

Kyungsoo is wary, but doesn’t say anything upon having Jongin leave. Jongin cuts his way towards the entrance fairly quickly, and in an instant, he’s already inside the station, talking with the securities.

Unease scratches Kyungsoo’s insides upon seeing their expressions — maybe they’re not supposed to be here. Jongin talks to them smoothly, but Kyungsoo knows better than to let Jongin face what seems to be six people by himself.

He might not be the best fighter, but he at least was the leader of taekwondo team during high school. A run towards the entrance later, he finds that Jongin is already surrounded by the burly men, ready to launch themselves towards him. Jongin seems ready, but the guards are all armed.

Kyungsoo is about to scurry inside when the first shot echoes in the otherwise quiet terminal, and he almost thinks that it’s Jongin until he realizes that Jongin has bent down, letting the bullet slice through the opposite security’s head. A laugh, and the guards try tackling him to the ground instead, but Jongin is nimbler, grabbing one of the securities’ gun to shoot down the rest. One, two. Three.

Two men are left, and they have their guns against Jongin’s temples. The classic “drop your gun” line is announced, and Kyungsoo knows better than to wait for Jongin’s head to get blown up.

“Hey!” Kyungsoo shouts as loud as he can, trying to be a distraction. He gets their attention, and with that, Jongin fires another bullet into the guard’s skull, and wounds the other in the stomach before pinning the guard against the ground.

“Good job, hyung,” Jongin’s eyes glint with mischief, and Kyungsoo sprints towards him, muttering a curse.

 

DAY 180.

“So, what’s the plan from the government?” Jongin asks casually, sitting on the guard’s stomach as he writhes in pain, muzzle of the gun pressed against the temple. Jongin has made Kyungsoo shoot the guard in the limbs, and Kyungsoo’s hand trembled, but he did it.

“They didn’t tell us anything!” the guard shouts, and the resonance carves a grimace on Kyungsoo’s face.

“Oh, well. We’ll find out by ourselves, then, hyung,” Jongin says, smirking. “Just shoot him. He’s of no use.”

Kyungsoo is an inch away from gasping, but he’s gone this far. Might as well do it. He’s about to shoot when the guard speaks again, “All right! All right!”

“Hm? Yes, what is it?” Jongin asks, teasing.

“They told us to keep everyone off this station! Told us that all the spots into the dome were all bought, and if we didn’t do our job they’d take away our spots, too!”

“Bought, huh? Interesting. Are they bought by the rich? Because hell, I should’ve known. My father would’ve loved having a spot.”

“I don’t know! I really don’t know,” the guard gasps, and in his despair, the last shot rings. He dies with his eyes still open, and Jongin simply gets off the guard’s body before the blood can reach his shoes.

“The government is a scum,” Jongin spits, taking the guns off the floor while tiptoeing to avoid the pools of blood. He puts the guns into his backpack, and slips the last one, fully loaded, into the back of his jeans, underneath his — no, it’s Kyungsoo’s — leather jacket. “They just want to save themselves. And bet it’s just the top one percent of the rich that could buy the spots in the dome… if not less. Wow, shit.”

Kyungsoo looks at him owlishly, not really comprehending Jongin’s train of thoughts. He also hides the gun he’s been carrying underneath his jackets. “How do you… know?”

“You don’t remember?” Jongin dubiously inquires as they head off the entrance. “My stepfather is… well, was — I killed him before he could kill me — in the top ten percent of this country, in terms of money.”

“I don’t think money matters that much anymore,” Kyungsoo offers his opinion.

“No, it doesn’t.” Jongin clacks his tongue against his palate. “But the men that can offer their service and knowledge would be valuable… so I bet that’s who could be in it. The government saved them via the underground hives before — so now, with the source of lights… It makes sense. They’re building a new colony that excludes everyone except those deemed useful, basically.”

Kyungsoo only nods, although it takes him a while to actually digest where Jongin’s thoughts might be headed. He’s halfway towards forming another thought when Jongin suddenly pecks him on the cheek. “That’s for saving me earlier. I owe you one.”

 

DAY 180.

The second gate looms over the horizon, and it can be effortlessly reached by car. By foot, the distance that spans between them is a challenge. The weather is freezing, and it’s started puffing thin smokes whenever they attempt to talk. Jongin’s hold around Kyungsoo’s hand is tight, and they’re about halfway there after hours of walking when they spot rising flumes towards the dark skies.

Someone is making a campfire in the middle of a dead city.

“That’s a surefire way to make their presence known,” Jongin comments, palpably amused. “What a dumbass.”

Kyungsoo just shakes his head, sighing. They head towards the source, which isn’t too far from where they were, knowing that the whoever has lit the fire intends to reach the gate as well.

It’s not one person, apparently — it’s a group of three. They’re drawing close when the party seems alarmed, their body languages showing that none of them would like to welcome strangers in the vicinity. But upon drawing closer, Kyungsoo realizes one thing: one of the faces is familiar, and it makes his stomach churn.

“Baekhyun?”

The man addressed blinks at both Jongin and Kyungsoo, before a smile spreads. “Kyungsoo, hey!”

Kyungsoo forces an awkward smile, tentatively closing the gap between them. The rest of them relent as well, relaxing. There’s a tall, lanky boy which seems a lot younger than them, and a man that looks considerably older.

“You’re safe!” Baekhyun approaches, and pats Kyungsoo on the shoulder, before wrapping his arm around Kyungsoo, dragging him towards where the rest are. “Hey, guys, this is Kyungsoo! He attended the same university as me! Kyungsoo, this is Sehun and Junmyeon.”

Even at this distance, Kyungsoo can feel the heavy gaze drilled into Baekhyun.

 

DAY 180.

None of the party finds it hard to like Jongin, with his full-teethed smiles ( or are they smirks? ) and Kyungsoo finds an odd tug in his chest when Sehun seems to find Jongin attractive. He’s no mind reader, but he’s clearly not blind to body languages either. Sehun gravitates towards Jongin in his shy ways, amused by everything that Jongin says. And Jongin not once pays attention to Kyungsoo anymore, which aggravates him to no end.

Their campfires last for a while, and they have enough food supplies. It’s quiet, with occasional chitchat, and when the hour seems to tick into the night, the party grows weary. Kyungsoo can sense the droopy lids of his companies. Junmyeon retreats into the tent that they’ve built first, followed by Baekhyun. Kyungsoo is seated across Jongin and Sehun, who have been whispering about god-knows-what.

He can feel, the creeping jealousy that starts reigning in. A huff later, he gets up to join the rest of the party in the tent.

 

DAY 181.

He stirs from his sleep in the middle of the night, it seems. Unsure as to what time it is, but he sees that everyone’s asleep, including Jongin. Anger shimmers in his chest at the sight of Jongin sleeping pressed against Sehun, and he doesn’t really register it the first time he hears the sound of the white noise growing louder. He sighs, hoisting himself into a sitting position as he tries willing away the feeling that keeps bothering him.

_And even at the end of the world, feelings are still a bother…_

It’s a break from the emptiness that usually occupies the expanse of his feelings, yet it’s not the kind of distraction that he’s been looking for. And that’s when he realizes — how the background noise grows louder, more precise. It’s not mimicking the rain; more like radio static. And then, sirens.

It’s far, at first. Then he notices how it grows louder.

And for some reason, it stings. Almost like hypnosis, and it amplifies the feelings that he has. Gritting his teeth, he covers his ears and scurries towards Jongin to shake his shoulder, hoping to wake him up.

Jongin is alarmed, waking up almost immediately. Bleary-eyed, he seems to try grasping his surroundings, letting reality sink in. Kyungsoo casts a glance at the rest, still sound asleep, and he doesn’t think he wants to save them, this time.

His instinct is telling him to run, and he will.

Humans are born selfish, after all.

 

DAY 181.

He doesn’t know exactly why he does it, but he stabs his knife into Sehun’s neck and slashes it with ease before they go.

Jongin’s smirk doesn’t fade for a long time.

 

DAY 181.

In the depth of darkness where they’re hiding, Kyungsoo finds it hard to simply focus on what’s happening when the jeeps suddenly surround their previous camp, locating three people, one dead. Jongin, on the other hand, is fixated by the entire situation. Kyungsoo’s gaze is still placed on his own hands, lacquered with the drying blood.

He nearly doesn’t flinch when two gunshots ring across the vicinity.

 

DAY 181.

“You wanted me to do it,” is what Kyungsoo says upon having his voice back. It’s 07:14AM and he’s been frozen for a while, staring at the watch on his wrist, waiting for the moment to be safe for them to move at all. The siren is long-gone, jeeps failing to notice more people hiding behind the building.

Jongin looks up, staring at him for a moment before a leisure smile blooms. “It wasn’t that hard, was it? In a moment like this, we’re all animals. We’re born to be predators.”

 

DAY 181.

They’ve been running, stopping, running, stopping. The supply won’t last them forever, its stock starting to deplete. The sirens sometimes stop, but most of the time they echo. And then, gunshots.

The government has started eliminating everyone. This feels like another survival game written in all the fictional stories Kyungsoo never learned to believe.

The eeriest part of it all is perhaps the fact that Jongin makes it as if Kyungsoo was paranoid — as if none of these things actually happened. He’s surrounded with serenity, seemingly still amused by the entire situation.

Yet he runs with Kyungsoo.

 

DAY 182.

In this cold substandard motel where the wallpaper molds and peels, he lies low with Jongin, wondering if there’s even any possibility for them to pass the second gate. At this rate, the government is hunting everyone who tried passing the first gate — they were trapped to begin with, in for the elimination that they couldn’t outrun.

His fingers are tangled between Jongin’s, and their legs are intertwined with each other. He breathes softly, palms pressed against Jongin’s ribs, counting each ridge as he wonders if these ribs will have more number than their days.

Jongin smiles against the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, humming. “I love you,” he whispers suddenly, and that takes Kyungsoo aback.

He’s silent for a moment, digesting what it means, to love someone in their dying moments. “How can you love someone you barely know?”

Jongin chuckles, voice low. It’s almost gone underneath the whirring sound of the static outside. “Even at the end of the world, you’re still asking such a thing? You could’ve just said that you loved me too instead. It’s easier than questioning my decisions.”

A frown. “You don’t make that decision; it’s supposed to be a feeling.”

“Same difference. At the end of the day, it’s my choice to let this feeling stay.” His lips clasp around Kyungsoo’s skin, sucking to leave a mark. “It’s been years. Some things don’t change. You still ask everything behind my decisions, my actions. Does this still mean I barely know you?”

A sigh later, and Kyungsoo thinks he’s been questioning too much. “You’re perceptive.”

“And you know me enough to decide your feelings about me.”

 

DAY 182.

“I love you too,” Kyungsoo whispers, as he listens to the jeeps coming close, their sirens a telltale story of their future.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank everyone who's read it this far, as well as my friends from twitter, discord, and kakao whom I have pestered to read this prior to submission. This fic is something that I have finished fashionably late, but have finished either way, during a hard time, so I'm very proud of it. As expected from my prompter, it was meant to be a sad ending, but it's left open-ended, so I hope you enjoyed it and are able to imagine your own ending to it. <3


End file.
